9 The Happy Event
The next morning I woke up with a terrible headache, caused by a hangover.
The heavens must have decided to punish me for the way I’d treated you the night before.
I rolled over in bed, hoping you were still asleep, but I noticed with regret that you’d gotten up before me, and I felt very sorry about that.
I wanted to go find you right away to talk to you, but the room seemed like a swirling black hole floating above my head.
I got up with considerable effort to go to the bathroom, where I took a scalding hot shower, hoping it would help.
The trick seemed to work, and with renewed enthusiasm I decided to get dressed and come look for you.
As I stepped out of the room, I was hit by the bright sunlight, which made my eyes water.
I looked around, hoping in vain to see you nearby.
I ran to the bar, but I had no luck there either.
I even tried the restaurant, but apparently no one had seen you that morning.
I forced myself to stay calm and had breakfast, but I couldn’t sit still for long. It felt like I had fire under my feet. I started pacing back and forth between the bar and the bungalow, unable to settle down.
I was about to burst into tears when a staff member complimented me on your professionalism as a doctor.
Taken completely by surprise, I asked him why.
He explained that you’d been called urgently to the native village for a sudden delivery; the baby was due in fifteen days, but it seemed she was in a hurry to be born.
She was a beautiful baby girl, and the mother, grateful for everything you’d done, had asked you to name her, and you’d suggested calling her Brooke.
At those words, I set off at a brisk pace toward the village to be by your side at such an important moment. I realized I couldn’t bear to be without you for even one more minute—I would surely have died.
As I walked down the path leading to the village, I started running, stopping only when I saw the first houses, without knowing exactly where to look for you.
In the little square at the entrance to the village, I saw some children playing with a chameleon.
I approached them, trying to communicate with gestures.
I mimed a sick person and an injection in the buttocks, prompting bursts of laughter.
I tried again, miming a baby’s cry, and finally they understood; so they pointed me toward a little yellow house with flowered curtains on the windows.
Hesitantly, I pushed open the slightly ajar door and heard your voice coming from a side room.
As I reached you, my heart swelled; you were handing a tiny bundle to the new mother lying on a bed at that very moment.
You looked at me beaming, and I returned a tearful smile as I approached the baby.
I knew you weren’t supposed to touch newborns to avoid passing germs to them, but the mother handed the baby to me, inviting me to hold her.
I was enchanted by how tiny she was; her little hands and face looked like alabaster.
The baby was sleeping, so I simply kissed one of her little hands before returning her to her mother, thanking her for the kind gesture she’d shown me.
When the new mother learned my name from you, she took one of my hands in hers and pressed it to her heart: it was her way of thanking me for offering my name to the little one.
At that moment, I felt truly proud of you for the way you’d managed to stand out even in that little corner of paradise that had now become yours as well.
We left the room hand in hand. The thought that wouldn’t leave my mind was that you had brought a second little girl into the world: I had been the first when you first met me.
A small crowd of curious children had gathered at the door of the little house; among them were the ones who had helped me find you.
I smiled at them and was immediately lovingly swarmed by those little ones.
They started tugging at my shirt and touching my hair.
I crouched down to hug them and greeted them by high-fiving their little hands.
We returned to the resort in high spirits and stopped at the bar for an aperitif.
You looked tense—partly because you’d slept only a few hours and partly because of the weight of what you’d done.
I wondered how I could convince you to rest a little.
I thought the excuse of a headache might work, so on impulse I left you at the bar without waiting for the bartender to serve us and went back to the bungalow.
Worried by my unusual behavior, you followed me shortly afterward.
You found me lying in bed with my eyes closed and one hand on my forehead, twirling a strand of hair around my finger—it was a habit I had when I was stressed. You sat on the bed, stroking my face.
One more effort and I would have managed to get you to lie down on the bed and fall asleep. I turned toward you, asking you to cuddle me. At those words, all your doubts vanished, and you undressed and lay down next to me.
I was starting to think I’d used the wrong technique, because you seemed more awake than before. I tried a different approach and confessed my plan to get you to sleep.
Your reaction was immediate, and you started tickling me to punish me. You knew I couldn’t stand it for even a second, because it drained my strength. However, what you didn’t realize was that it turned me on—but heaven forbid you’d ever find out.
I’d wanted to help you rest, but instead it seemed as though sleep and fatigue had flown out the door, leaving you with nothing but your immense desire to make love to me.
I was about to surrender to my emotions: I plunged my eyes into yours without being able to say a word.
Your fingers glided along my back, making me shudder with every inch of skin they touched.
What you were making me feel was so indescribable that if I’d felt pain, I wouldn’t have recognized it.
Sensations I’d never experienced before were making me shiver at the touch of your warm body.
Time seemed to have stopped, and only you were flowing beneath my skin like lifeblood.
I thought it would be a good time to die, to preserve intact in time what I was feeling—and I didn’t want it to ever end.
I wanted to tell you so many things, but my innate shyness was holding me back.
Sensing how I was feeling, you asked me if something was wrong.
I found the strength and courage to answer you: “Everything’s fine. You’re wonderful, and I’m feeling things I’ve never felt before, but I can’t let myself go the way I’d like to, even though I want to so badly.”
“Don’t be afraid, my love, just love me. I want to make love to you so I can feel you are completely mine. Love me, please,” you told me with so much love.
I wanted to love you with all my heart, but I was afraid that afterward you wouldn’t love me anymore and that there would be nothing left for me to offer you.
I buried my face in your chest and, crying softly, confessed to you what was tearing me apart inside: “My love, I’m so afraid of losing you. Without you, life no longer makes sense, and now that I’ve found you, I can’t bear to be without you anymore. With you,
I’ve discovered a love that knows no bounds and grows every day. For me, making love is a different way of showing each other what’s inside us, and I’m afraid I’m the only one in the world who thinks this way.”
You embraced me and, as you began to undress me slowly, you replied that you felt the same way and that you could no longer imagine life without me.
Held close to the warmth of your body and your breath, I lost myself, giving myself to you without a single thought or fear.
Your lips rested gently on mine as I repeated your name over and over.
Tears were now streaming down my face, underscoring the intense emotions I was feeling in your arms.
That was the love I had always dreamed of, the one I’d been trying so hard to capture in my writing.
Only you had managed to understand what I was longing for, and only you could have done so.
Nothing happens by chance, and if I found myself in your arms at that moment, it was because I had always longed for a love as immense and exhilarating as the one you were offering me—and as the one I felt for you.
I had written rivers of words about love, but I never could have imagined that making love with you would be so incredible.
I felt as if I no longer existed; I had become a breath of wind to intoxicate your mind forever.
I’d fallen asleep on your chest with tears still clinging to my eyelashes, and I’d had a beautiful dream—one of those dreams where, when you wake up and open your eyes, you close them immediately to keep dreaming.
I woke up with that feeling and looked at you.
I realized right away that I didn’t want to close my eyes again, because you were my dream, and you were right beside me.
You were unaware of my feelings and slept peacefully. I tried to guess your thoughts and stayed there watching you for over an hour, trying to etch every tiny detail of your face into my memory.
When you finally opened your eyes, I gave you a tender, loving smile, and you said to me, “Good morning, my love. I see a ray of sunshine has come all the way here to visit me.”
I replied that I was just a ray of sunshine, while you were the sun that lit up my life. I rested my head on your chest again, without taking my eyes off yours. I felt at peace after a long, dark period; I wasn’t joking when I told you that you truly were the sun for me.
There was a knock at the door, and you offered to go see who it was.
A staff member had come to remind us that there was half an hour left before our trip to Fishermen’s Island.
We’d completely forgotten the commitment we’d made to the activity leaders, so we got dressed in a hurry, sharing quick kisses every now and then as if we needed them to breathe.
Then we hurried to the bar for breakfast. We hadn’t even had time to talk about the feelings we’d experienced the night before, and I couldn’t wait to do so later, because I needed to talk things over with you.
The motorboat was already waiting for us at the dock, and once we were on board, it set off, kicking up clouds of salty spray.